“No. I’m fine with it. It doesn’t bother me. You’re a legend for a reason. I don’t just mean like legend in the Bureau, I mean like a literal legend, around the world. You’re folklore. Hell, you’re literature.”

Franks hated that particular book. It portrayed him as a whiner. He found it—there was a relatively new slang term that fit—emo. And Franks was certainly not emo. The rookie was looking him in the eye. That was impressive. Very few humans were able to do that when they had an inkling what he was. The rookie was tougher than expected, but that was the nature of an organization that only recruited people who had already established themselves as professionals. Franks thought of Strayhorn as the rookie only because that was what the other agents had called him. By Franks’ standards, all of them were new and inexperienced. “What then?”

“I was just wondering why you still work for the MCB? You’ve done this so long. It’s not like you’re obligated to anymore. You’re PUFF exempt. Why do you still do this job?”

That was complicated. First there was The Deal and then there was The Contract. He had an oath to uphold, an impossible promise to keep, a huge debt to pay, and the only way he could ever hope to accomplish those lofty goals was by doing the one thing he was good at. He’d been a warrior for eternity, and unlike the humans who’d fought in the war in heaven before they’d been born, he still remembered his purpose, and he was damned good at it. Hurting the things that preyed on humanity was the only thing keeping him out of Hell, but like all complex answers it was just easier to say, “Classified.”

Strayhorn broke eye contact and looked out the window. “I understand.” Humans had a hard time with long awkward silences. Franks didn’t mind them, as he didn’t really grasp the awkward part and he enjoyed the silence. Strayhorn, apparently, did not. “Something’s been bothering me, about all of this, about the MCB, about our mission, about the First Reason . . .” The rookie turned back to him. “I thought you’ve been doing this so long you might have a good answer.”

Myers had sent orders to not let anything bad happen to the rookie. So that probably precluded Franks’ initial inclination to toss him out the window. Answering his stupid question would probably be easier than shutting him up, or would at least have less paperwork involved, so Franks nodded for him to continue.